


Warmth

by WhereAreThePickles



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Cole-Centric Fic, Feelings, Hugs, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereAreThePickles/pseuds/WhereAreThePickles
Summary: A comforting feeling that is experienced when at ease. Or a necessity needed to survive. It depends on the situation that one is in that determines the usage of the term.
Relationships: Stefan Bekowsky/Cole Phelps
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Warmth

Warmth.

A comforting feeling that is experienced when at ease. Or a necessity needed to survive. It depends on the situation that one is in that determines the usage of the term.

Regardless of mediocre textbook definitions, there is no doubt that one's life is either mildly or majorly difficult without warmth.

Warmth is one of those rare feelings that you don't know that you're missing until you have it back again. 

It's often overwhelming, yet uplifting on re-entry; fervently being greeted back into oneself through a deep sigh of satisfaction, peace numbing the brain as the soul is awakened through the breeze of pure bliss and sudden relaxation.

It's because of this warmth that the defensive walls of ice built around his heart begin to steadily melt, so much so that the overflow makes it to the outside, drops firmly landing on a shoulder as he begins to vehemently shake.

He feels strong arms embrace him even tighter than before, providing security, a concept that he's so used to giving, never receiving. He welcomes the vulnerability as he too, begins to squeeze harder, finally giving into much needed comfort.

The corked bottles of catharsis stored on shelves in the back of his mind have been begging to be smashed for ages, it was only a matter of time before someone broke through the façade and smashed them for him. Rather, it was only a matter of time before he let someone see past the façade, pluck them off of the shelves, uncork them, pour them out, and share the drink with him.

He knows that his face is an incomprehensible shade of red, his unforeseen sorrow easy to blame. He feels a hand consolingly carding through his always perfect hair, breaking his formerly flawless composure down even further. 

He was the best in his field, loved by everyone on the holy side of the law. Then one day without warning, he’s lost not only his job, but the respect of nearly everyone in the city, for something he didn’t even do; it was all a cover-up to save the police department from a prostitution scandal that was steadily threatening to boil over to the papers. 

He was the fall guy for the entire department.

Now he's clinging onto the last person that he cares about like he's a life raft in the middle of an endless ocean.

He doesn't even remember why he came over to his apartment. He told himself that it was to talk for old times sake, despite the fact that "old times" really weren't too long ago and they had just ran into each other while on the job a few days before. But if that truly was the reason for going there, he wouldn't have had to pour himself a drink for dutch courage before driving over.

He was lying to himself and he knew it. Someone had to know the truth about everything, from the war to the scandal to recently unearthed feelings and everything in between. 

Someone had to know.

It crosses his mind that he may lose him after this, that he may distance himself away from him after learning so many awful details about the things he has done. He fears this was a true mistake, that this is more trouble than it's worth.

Just the thought of losing him sends another wave of emotion shuddering through his body, much to his chagrin.

His eyes are stinging by now, unprepared for the previous and now current onslaught of pure desolation to come tearing through them.

Part of him wants nothing more than for a hole to open up in the floor, swallowing him out of arms and away from everyone. But he knows that isolation is nothing but a mirage, an idyllic happenstance that leaves more damage in its wake than there was to begin with.

The other part of him wants to stay in this thoughtful embrace and never leave. He wishes that time could stop, so he could stay in this moment without any of the consequences to follow.

It feels so surreal. He doesn't want this moment to end.

He holds on even tighter, afraid that if he lets go, he'll wake up.

He hears a voice attempting to comfort him, but he is so far gone that he can't make it out. He pulls back in an attempt to return to reality only to find himself staring back at the most concerned yet relieved faces he's ever crossed paths with. 

It becomes crystal clear that some of his inner thoughts were not only outer, but reciprocated as well.

A small smile is sent his way, one full of hope and promise.

\-----------

He knew that he needed this release from his emotional confinement, he just didn't know that it would all happen so fast. As it turns out, he isn't the one exception to the rule that bottled up feelings aren't good to carry around and often result in a slow build-up to an uncontrollable explosion.

He never knew how much he was missing simple comfort and human connection. Denying himself such necessities that he didn't feel worthy enough to behold, punishing himself daily for past mistakes. Mistakes he swore that he would never tell anyone.

And so, the façade was built.

But he finally let it crumble for one person.

The one person that truly loves him unconditionally.

\----------

He needs him

He _needed_ him.

Always has.

Always will.

**Author's Note:**

> 912 words describing a hug. You're welcome lol


End file.
